Life is Beautiful, Death is Merciless
by TheAzureFox
Summary: Divine gods. Dead hearts. The end of the world, a past full of secrets, and a future drowned in bloodshed. Two twins join three houses. The end result? Just as you would expect: something horrible. (Canon rewrite/reinterpretation. Claudeth, Dimileth, Edeleth and more pairings. Full summary inside)


**Full Summary:**

Divine gods. Dead hearts. The end of the world, a past full of secrets, and a future drowned in bloodshed.

After a chance meeting with Fodlan's future leaders ends in saviorhood, twins Byleth and Belial must make a decision.

For Byleth, that decision is easy. She chooses the Golden Deer, drawn to their carefree lifestyle and the familiar face who sits in their ranks. However, what starts off to be a boon soon becomes a bane as she attracts the attention of one Claude von Reigan. And, unfortunately for her, it looks like he won't be going away any time soon...

Belial's decision, however, is not so easy. Because, while he chooses the path of the Blue Lions, he also feels drawn to that of the Black Eagles as well. Torn between the charismatic Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and the cold-hearted Edelgard von Hresvelgr, he soon finds his convictions wavering…

(Canon rewrite, AU, and reinterpretation. F!Byleth/Claude, M!Byleth/Dimitri, M!Byleth/Edelgard)

**Pairings:**

[Major] Claude/F!Byleth, Dimitri/M!Byleth, M!Byleth/Edelgard, one-sided Edelgard/F!Byleth

[Minor] Sylvain/Ingrid, Hilda/Lysithea, Mercedes/Ignatz, Lorenz/Marianne. Others undecided.

* * *

The lost city of Agartha is a place of wonder.

Even in its old age, ancient and of a time past its youth, the city stands abandoned but not neglected. Walls made from black stone stand proudly, boasting of a legacy not yet vanquished as its ruined towers peek up from fog-stained earth.

Edelgard steps through this city, her footsteps light yet full of caution. Around her, the city of black stands silently, its sky-reaching buildings hovering over her like a shadow. On its walls, painted with a kind of enigmatic light, are blue runes which pulse and wither whenever Edelgard keeps her gaze locked upon them. Some strange form of energy hovers in the air, cackling at her hesitance as she moves around a broken pillar of glass.

"So you have come."

A voice comes from the shadows and Edelgard freezes in place. She stiffens, hand drawn to the dagger on her belt and eyes searching for the source of such a sound. Fog clings to her, obscuring her vision as she dances on the tips of her toes.

"Relax."

Air hits her ear and Edelgard finds herself stunned to feel arms wrapped around her person. Orange hair drifts on the side of her vision, something gray yet human lingering around her waist before it pulls away to reveal itself as a shadow.

"Kronya," Edelgard says, half with relief and half with unease.

The shadow manifests in the form of a teenage girl with pale skin. Edelgard's eyes are drawn to the way three appendages dangle off her waist, waving like the tails of a cat as the newcomer approaches.

"How do you like it here? Doesn't everything here look so sad?" The girl named Kronya asks. "No, don't answer that. Rather, I suppose I should get on with things. Father doesn't like it when I show up late, after all." There's a sigh, one drawn out and exaggerated but it is not hard to miss the note of bitterness in her voice. "Come along now. You're our honored guest and we shouldn't be keeping you waiting."

Edelgard eyes the girl, lips firmly screwed into place. There are words she wants to speak, questions she wants answered, but she supposes there are better times for inquiries.

The girl in front of her blinks red eyes, hands behind her back and appendages slowing to an irritated wave. She offers up a hand and Edelgard accepts it without question, feeling fingers intertwine with her own as she is guided through the fog.

As she does so, however, Edelgard comes to the realization that they aren't alone. Even in fog as thick as the one she walks through, she can sense the presence of foreign eyes upon her. Gazes made from malicious curiosity alight upon her, poking and prodding and digging into her as if to search for weakness.

Edelgard tilts her head up, trying not to let her fear show as she is led through the fog.

As if sensing that she knows of their presence, those tucked within the mist descend into loud whispers. Edelgard strains to hear their words but finds (to her irritation) that they are spoken in a language she doesn't understand.

Kronya, on the other hand, seems oblivious to such chatter, moving without hesitation through the ruins before her. She is a silent guide, her earlier babble replaced with something quiet as she leads Edelgard through the tattered remains of a city lost to time.

Eventually, they reach a strange square-shaped object. Except, it's not so much a square object as it is a panel of enigmatic energy. Blue runes alight with magic greet Edelgard's uncertain gaze, welcoming Kronya into its luminance as she steps upon the plate of blackened metal.

"Come now," Kronya says, her tails of metal swishing. She tugs at Edelgard's hand, red eyes alight in amusement at Edelgard's reluctance to join her on the metal panel. "It won't hurt a bit."

Edelgard stiffens, knowing she must step onto the plate of runes and yet her body freezing at a most untimely moment. The whispers around her descend into something like laughter, cruel and mocking and words sharpened with a lilt of malicious amusement. From the depths of the fog, Edelgard can see the movement of shadows, of eyes glowing in the darkness and sinister intent reeking in the air.

The sensation of danger hits her all at once, biting into her as she realizes just how foolish she has been to come alone. Panic takes her chest, eating at her, and she is pained to admit it is not an unfamiliar feeling.

Still, the convictions trapped inside of her fight back against the fear she is facing, chiding the way she clings to her childish fears. Edelgard takes a deep breath, reminding herself of her own reasons for travelling alone in such a place, and nods at Kronya. She takes a step forward, feet settling on the strange panel, and the girl before her nods in approval.

"Well done," she praises.

Edelgard's body betrays her and she lets loose a pathetic smile, Kronya's approval curling its way through her like intimacy would in a touch-starved child. A wave of bile hits Edelgard's throat and she doesn't miss the way disgust boils in the air from that of her audience.

Kronya closes her eyes and chants words in a language as old as the city itself. The light beneath them grows brighter, eating at Edelgard's feet, legs, hands and arms until it up and swallows her whole. She closes her eyes, squeezing them shut, and only when the light that pierces at her eyelids vanishes does she dare to open them again.

Her breath hitches in her throat and she finds for a minute that she is unable to breathe.

Before her, trapped in a cavern as big as a field and as tall as a mountain, stands a city of obsidian. Tall towers draped in blue runes and buildings made from blackened metal greet her waiting gaze, polished with a kind of luster that is unlike the city she has just departed from. Lanterns made from cerulean crystals hang on poles of silver steel, light falling awash on streets made from ebony.

Magic hums in the air, visible in the way colored runes puff up like smoke from the ground beneath. Edelgard's gaze is drawn to symbols of mystery and intrigue as they drift up and pop at the touch of her fingers, fizzling out with colored sparks.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Kronya lets go of her hand and steps forward, spinning her arms out and letting loose a giggle. Her metal tails wave behind her, moving like that of a dog's as she hops around on a floor made from silver glass.

"It is," Edelgard breathes, unable to deny such a simple fact.

"There's much more to see, too!" Kronya says, eyes lighting up as she beckons Edelgard to follow her. "Come on, come on!"

The older girl takes off, her every step as elegantly calculated as she leads Edelgard through the city of polished black.

"There are many things I want to tell you," Kronya says, "and many things I want to show. It's been a long time since we've brought a visitor here. I've almost forgotten what it's like for outsiders to see and know of this place."

Edelgard nods, gaze scanning the area around her as her hands knead into the ends of her skirt. She realizes in a short amount of time that, yet again, she is being watched. From the corner of her vision, she can see figures of silver darkness clinging to the shadows of the city. They whisper to themselves, gazes fixated on her as they stay in the shadows of blackened towers.

She knows she stands out. She knows she cannot avoid that. Yet, somehow, she wishes to blend into the world around her, to avoid the whispers of those who slither in the dark and to rid herself of their judgment.

The girl falls quiet, as does her escort. Kronya does not comment on her silence, instead preferring to silently gesture to the things that are of interest and then move on with their journey.

Of those things of interest are the strange metal beings that move with a mind of their own. Animal-like creatures and bulky beings in the vague resemblance of humans patrol the area, greeting Edelgard's nervous gaze with unnatural tilts of the head before looking at Kronya and then continuing on their paths.

Edelgard has heard of such contraptions. Robots, they are called, devices almost life-like in nature and yet artificial beings whose servitude to their creators was never put into question.

_Such strange things_, Edelgard muses, watching as a bird-like machine flutters down on a metal rail before her. It moves in the semblance of a bird, cocking its head at her and observing her with golden eyes. Runes touch upon its body, pulsing, before the creature takes off with a chirping noise Edelgard has never had the pleasure of hearing before. _Very strange indeed._

She moves forward, not pausing a moment to adjust to such mysterious sights. Kronya doesn't allow her to, either, nudging her along whenever Edelgard's pace becomes unacceptably slow.

Over time, Edelgard grows tired of walking through streets of endless black. Her legs become weary, almost shaking in exhaustion, when at long last they come across a building decorated in magenta runes and enter inside.

There, Edelgard sees the target of her convictions.

A man awaits her, draped upon a throne of blue. White hair and white eyes greet her alongside wrinkling skin: a testament to the ancientness of the being before her.

"Father," Kronya says, kneeling down before the man with an arm across her chest, "I have brought our guest."

"Yes. I see." The man on the throne addresses Edelgard with the slightest tilt of his head. She can feel his gaze raking over her as she stands before him. Even with the lack of pupils in his eyes, she can tell he is assessing her from head to toe, appraising her with something cold. "You have thought about my offer, have you, child of Hresvelgr?"

Edelgard's lips curl just the slightest at the name she is presented with. "I have."

"And you came alone? No, I can sense you have." The man frowns. "How did you shake your loyal servant?"

"With a distraction," Edelgard says. "He does not need to know of your existence quite yet."

"Agreed," he says with something like a hiss. "He is unlike you. He is not fully committed to his ideals."

"Not yet. But he will." Edelgard raises her head. "I will make certain of that."

"Always honest with your convictions. I admire that about you. You are just like him, in a way."

"Him?"

The man shakes his head. "Someone you need not concern asking questions about. Rather, I wanted to hear your words to my proposal. Remember what I have told you. I will help you with your dreams if you will help me with mine. Do my words ring strongly for you or do we have to…_renegotiate_?"

The girl doesn't miss the lilt of warning in his voice. She knows the consequences of her decision. She wouldn't have come this far if she didn't.

"I accept."

From beside her, Edelgard can see the way Kronya relaxes.

She wonders the reason for Kronya's relief, eyebrows raising, when the man before her speaks again.

"Good. I was hoping you would." He removes himself from his throne, approaching her. "I look forward to working with you, future Empress of Fodlan."

He stops before her and holds out a hand.

Edelgard takes it.

"Of course."

* * *

One year, three months, two weeks, five days.

Fourteen hours and fifty three minutes.

Claude runs his hands along the scales of a wyvern, feeling the roughness of such scraping material with an apathetic musing. _Well fed. Healthy. Content._ His observations come without pause or conscious thought, his eyes analyzing only what he sees before him. _Tamed. Raised by humans. Knows no other life._

A flicker of jealousy hits him and he snorts at himself. Jealous? Of a wyvern? Him?

_All too likely._

Giant wings flap in the sky, beating strong and powerful as trails of wind are left in their wake. The beast Claude rides acts unaware of his presence, its gaze fixated on the giant wyvern flying ahead of it. Infatuation gleams in its gaze, its youth evident in the way it trails its alpha wyvern and tries to curry the beast's favor with its own obedience.

Claude curls his lips at such submission, wanting nothing more than to take his wyvern's reins in his hand and steer it away. But wyverns are pack animals, members of a herd. They follow a social hierarchy, one of which Claude has no chance of breaking. He knows that much though it doesn't mean he won't give it a try.

His hands grab on the back of its neck, his body leaning forward as he feels for the sensitive spots on the back of the creature's neck. His fingers run along dark brown scales, poking and prodding until they find an entry way into soft skin. Claude's fingers reach for that patch of sensitivity, fingernails applying just the slightest pinch of pressure…

The wyvern flutters its wings, distraught at such a sensation, and it doesn't take long for it to fall out of formation. It whines and yelps at the prick of his fingernails, spinning itself in circles as if to reach for him and snap him off its back. It can't reach him, however, its neck far too stiff to manage such a dangerous maneuver.

Above him, he hears shouts and screams of panic, riders placed atop wyverns doing their best to soothe the poor beast. However, Claude's wyvern has lost its sense of rationality for something more primal, fear invading its mind as it searches to rid itself of the pest which pains its sensitive skin.

Then, a dark shadow descends and golden eyes capture Claude's wyvern into obedience. It whines, flustering greatly in the presence of its alpha wyvern, before it sinks its head into submission and quails like the pathetic little thing it is.

Claude curls his lips, releasing his fingers and placing them on the tip of his saddle as he watches the man staring down at him.

Duke Reigan meets his gaze without hesitation, anger and frustration sparking in his eyes. Claude tilts his head up, unwilling to let his panic get a grip on him.

This man needs him, after all.

That's the one thing that reassures Claude more than anything else.

"What?" The boy asks. "I've done nothing this time."

"You are testing my patience," Duke Reigan snarls. "What did you expect to gain? Your tricks can only go so far. You cannot escape what is meant to be yours."

Claude stays silent. He knows his words will not help him here.

"If you act this way at the monastery, then perhaps I will have no choice but to incite your obedience."

His heart thumps in his chest. He doesn't let his face show the fear he feels. Instead, he digs his fingers into the leather of the saddle he sits on.

"You wouldn't dare."

Claude states it like a fact.

Because it is one.

And, they both know it is.

"Perhaps." Duke Reigan's voice becomes flat. "But I have other ways to do so. Like, perhaps, extending the time you'll be spending at the monastery?"

His anger immediately simmers into submission. All his defiance dissipates in an instant, the weight of such words eating away at him.

"I understand." He says.

"What was that?"

Claude glares up at him, something painful pricking at his eyes.

"I understand," he responds, pausing for a moment before spitting out- "_Grandfather_."

* * *

The voices are whispering to him again.

Dimitri wears a smile on his face as he walks through a hallway full of people. He greets them with a charming grin, his words filled with a lilt of merry. The people of his castle greet him with benevolence, pulled into his direction by they way he lights up the room and lets the world fall into place before him.

However, even as he speaks and charms and goes about his life, he can feel _them_ right beside him. _Their_ hands are on his body, slipping across his arms, his legs, his head, his ears, his cheeks, his eyes, his feet. _Their_ lips are whispering secrets only he is allowed to know, words promising a reward for fulfilling the requests lingering in their souls.

Dimitri ignores _them_ as he always does, progressing with life as if he is not a corpse walking among the living.

A woman with long pink appears before him, parting the crowd of admirers that chase after Dimitri, and the kind smile she gives the boy is enough to ease _them_ into a murmur of unease.

"Cornelia," he greets.

"Prince," the woman curtsies before him. "How are you faring?"

"Fine. I was just preparing to leave."

"Ah, of course. Forgive me if I've interrupted anything."

"You have not, Cornelia. Relax."

"Hm?" Cornelia smiles again and, this time, it sends _them_ into a panic. _Their_ voices clamor loudly, sinking into his ears and slickening his brain. Dimitri ignores the need to wince, straightening himself as Cornelia taps her fingernails against her elbow. "Well, I hope you enjoy your time at Garreg Mach. I expect you'll become a fine king when you come back, after all."

He nods, a hand put to his chest. "I promise to serve this kingdom well. I will work hard and become a king worthy of the throne."

Cornelia's eyes light up and she pats his head. "Such a good child," she coos. "I have faith in you."

She nods at herself, cupping her chin, and then excuses herself with a look of thoughtful musing. Dimitri's gaze follows her as she leaves. It takes little time before the woman is soon replaced by another figure.

"Rodrigue!" He says with a lilt of giddy surprise he cannot contain. He approaches a man of long black hair, unable to keep the grin from his face.

"Dima," the man greets in response, reciprocating the grin on his face with one of his own. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine!" He says and _they_, for once, don't speak up to disagree. "I was just preparing for my departure."

"Saying your goodbyes?" Rodrigue nods in approval and it makes Dimitri's heart swell. "They will all miss you while you're gone."

"I know that," he straightens. "And I'll miss everyone too. But, a king's duty is to become educated and ready of service whenever his people are in need of him. Going to the monastery will hone my skills as a leader."

"That it will," Rodrigue places a hand on Dimitri's shoulder. It's warm. It makes the ones haunting him falter back into the hell from which _they_ came, their distress thwarted momentarily. "And I can't wait to watch you become someone I can be proud of."

Dimitri beams, delighting in the sensations of euphoria washing over him, before a voice calls out to him. Dimitri turns to see a black-haired boy walking towards him.

"Sorry, Lord Rodrigue," the boy says, snatching at Dimitri's arm and looking pointedly away from Rodrigue, "but I have come to fetch the Boar Prince. We're already running late as it is. And, I don't want to hear Ingrid handing me an earful for his tardiness if I can avoid it."

"Alright, I hear you. Take him there then, Felix, if only so Ingrid won't tease you again." The black-haired man waves a flippant hand and laughs. It's a kind, open-hearted laugh. Dimitri likes that laugh. It reminds him of so many things…of so many people and so many things he's no longer allowed to have…

The black-haired boy named Felix nods at the man, his gaze lingering for only a moment on Rodrigue's figure, before he turns around and takes Dimitri with him down a stretch of the palace hallway. Dimitri obediently follows after him, growing almost sullen as _they_ drift through the cracks and hover yet again at his side.

Dimitri is escorted out into a courtyard full of pegasi, white horses draped in ethereal wings greeting his gaze. Atop them are nobles draped in finery, boys and girls placed nervously atop fine mounts that unfurl their wings and snort with the need to fly. Among them are a blonde-haired girl, a red-haired boy, and a dark-skinned man with graying hair who urge their horses to meet with him.

"About time, Felix!" A red-haired boy snorts. "What, did you get lost in the castle looking for Our Highness?"

"No, our future king just has the indecency to launch himself into conversation on the cusp of our departure." Felix releases Dimitri's arm with a throw, sending Dimitri tumbling several steps forwards as his childhood friends look upon him with wary amusement.

"We have not a moment to waste, Your Highness," the dark-skinned man – Dedue – states with an informative tone.

"Best we get on our way now," Ingrid agrees, taking the reins of her pegasus with an air of confidence. "I'm sure the Archbishop will scold us if we arrive after the others."

Dimitri nods, watching as one of his men escorts a pegasus in his direction. He boards it without question and his steed lifts its head in response, prancing forward to let loose its wings.

"Let us leave now then," he tells them, smiling widely as the ghosts at his side quiet in anticipation. "Before she can have a chance to scold our ears to deafness."

Felix boards his own pegasus and offers up a huff. "Stop talking, Boar Prince, and get moving."

The boy takes off on his pegasus, followed by Sylvain and Ingrid. Behind them follow a brown-haired lady, a girl of orange hair and a boy with hair the color of ash, each riding atop pegasi of their own. Dimitri watches them go before turning to Dedue.

"I will leave when you are ready, Your Highness."

Dimitri nods. "Then let us go." He kicks the side of his pegasus, watching as the creature jolts forward and settles into the air. Dedue's mount follows and the two ride side by side into the sky.

Wind brushing into his face, Dimitri's eyes light up as the world becomes nothing but the sky and a stretch of land before them. He urges his pegasus onwards, guiding it through the clouds of the world above, and can feel nothing but anticipation in his heart as he soars through the skies.

In his ears, he hears a whisper, cold and unnerving and speaking a noise only the dead can make.

_"Dimitri. You must avenge us."_

Briefly, he imagines that his hands are painted in red.

* * *

Garreg Mach Monastery stands. It stands, yet it does so with an air of loneliness, trapped in a time of abandonment as silence threads through its abandoned corridors. Once, perhaps only a month ago, this monastery was the home of dozens of students. Now, it was home to very few. Home, that is, to the ones who rule it and the ones who guide its citizens year after year after year.

Resting atop the cathedral, perched on a stone ceiling wide enough to fit her form, sits a silver dragon. Her gaze flits across the world. Silent. Contemplating. Otherwise unmoving.

It is only when a pair of green-haired individuals comes to disturb her does she settle into the sensation of movement.

"My Lady," the older of the two – a man with hair the color of darkened moss – speaks with reverence. "Are you thinking of _her_ again?"

The dragon cranes its head to look down upon him, mouth parting to release words.

"I must mourn the dead, Cichol," she says for way of explanation.

"I understand," the man nods his head. He brings the other beside him – a girl with hair the color of mint – close to him. "Still, the moment to grieve needs to pass. Soon, the new students will be arriving. You cannot appear like this when they do."

"I am aware. Rest assured," she cocks her head back and forth, "they are not within earshot. They are still far, far away. And, until then, I will continue to reflect."

"Humanity has come a long way with your guidance," speaks the girl. "I am rather glad to be here to see it for myself this year."

"As am I, Cethleann." The man known as Cichol pats her head. He presses her close to him, arms draping her in a show of intimacy rare and yet yearned for. "But you must be careful. If you or Cethleann are to come under harm, I will show no mercy. Not even to humans."

"As you should, Cichol," the silver dragon speaks, wisdom coating her tongue like that of an old woman's tales. "Humans are unpredictable. Trust them, and they will abuse you. Distrust them, and they will find any reason to give you grief."

The dragon spreads her wings and grows awash with light. As she does so, she shrinks into the semblance of a woman, light green hair falling behind her as she appears before them.

"I have asked for your presence for one reason and one reason only." She tells the two of them. "I sense the movements of our oppressors. And, while I haven't been able to sniff them out, I've gotten word that they will make their move this year."

"And what a better year to make a move," Cichol speaks with dryness in his voice. "The Empire, Kingdom, and Alliance are all in disarray. If they act now, they will certainly have the upper hand."

"Precisely. And we cannot allow that to happen." The woman hums. "What we have built up cannot be destroyed. By the will of the Goddess Herself, we must do what it takes to keep this world in order. Even if that means acting against the humans She so loves."

"I will follow your every command," Cichol promises. "Give the word and I will do as you please."

"And I thank you for your sacrifice," she tells him. "I know coming here is in the least of your interests."

"We will do what we can to protect the legacy of the Goddess," Cethleann says with a smile. "Leave it to us to help you, Archbishop."

"Thank you," the woman says. She steps forward, walking with a practiced elegance. She pauses for a moment, stiffening. Cichol and Cethleann look at her, curiosity alight in their gazes, when she shakes her head and continues on.

"I think," she says, "it is time to greet my guests."

* * *

In a dream, two individuals watch as a battle unfolds. They bear witness to the way a man made of gray skin and a woman of green hair fight a battle. Behind them are two armies, one draped in crimson the other draped in sapphire. Battle cries sounds, swords clash, arrows fly, and the living painting placed before them erupts into a flurry of death and bloodshed.

"Nemesis!" The woman snarls, her sword clashing with that of the man's.

"Seiros!" Nemesis greets with an eerie calm.

He moves with precision, blocking her blows and doing his best to keep up with her berserk movements.

The two clash, fighting and spitting and hissing and snarling. Rain pours down upon them, slickening their battlefield with mud as they lunge and snap and bring their swords down upon each other.

"Tell me!" Seiros shouts. "Do you remember the Red Canyon?"

She kicks Nemesis down, places a heel on his chest, and then points her sword at his throat. Nemesis's eyes narrow as his lips curl into mockery.

"How could I forget?"

He shoves her off of him and the battle continues. Red battles blue, green battles gray, and it all becomes a blur until red beats blue and green beats gray.

Seiros stabs a dagger into Nemesis' neck. She stabs into his chest, his head, his mouth, his eyes, his ears. Stab, stab, stab. All she does is _stab_.

"You will die! Die! _Die!_"

Nemesis twitches under her, his own cries soon replaced with the murmur of metal eating into skin.

When she finishes, her face is stained with red and the army watching behind her erupts into cheers. The army of blue cowers, their leader vanquished, but all Seiros can seem to think about is the sword she takes into her arms.

"Mother," she says, her voice of anger giving way to one of painful resolve, "mother, I did it. I killed brother. I had to. I _had_ to. He killed you. What was I supposed to do?"

She cradles the sword, ignorant to the blood smearing across her cheek. She stays like that for a moment, sobbing, before her gaze looks up and locks with that of two others.

"You," Seiros says, reaching out, "what are you doing here?"

The world fades to black.

* * *

I've already posted this on A03 but this is a longfic project that I am currently working on. This is a reinterpretation on the game that is meant to fix a lot of plot holes I've witnessed in the game while also providing a fresh and canon-based take on the game.

Among the stuff I plan to change, here is a few things:

-Claude gets a character arc that's relevant to the plot. I hate how Claude is the only one of the three lords to basically not get good character development and I hate how his whole story and mission in life is to basically just yeet away from being Leicester's leader and go off to Almyra.

He has good motivations and I like the bread crumb of thoughts sprinkled in about him here and there (and never used beyond "telling" instead of "showing" :') so I've reworked him here to give him more prominence to the plot and a reason to grow. This means I've changed his personality and his backstory (though, not as much as you might think) so be prepared for a /very/ different interpretation of Claude von Reigan in this work.

-The Agarthians. Better known as Those Who Slither In The Dark or the Nightcrawlers. I hate how they are one-sidedly evil and have almost no redeeming qualities. I love Kronya. I love Thales and Solon. They have potential. Great and fun potential. But that's all been cast aside in the game for "hurr durr Very Evil Team is evil" so I aim to correct that here. Thus, the Agarthians will be humanized and their personalities (or, what little personalities they had) will be radically changed in order to make them _decent and likable characters._ Aka, I'm not going to treat them like evil scapegoats for all the game's problems.

-Minor characters like Kronya, Jeralt, Seteth, etc., will be addressed throughout this work and given more importance to the plot. This includes even the obscure characters like Loog, Blaiddyd, Reigan, and so on as I'd be remiss to ignore them completely.

-Plot holes or things I personally have nitpicks in with the plot (like, say, why Jeritza obediently dons a whole suit of black armor and follows Edelgard's every word or why Dimitri's hatred for Edelgard in that one cutscene makes no sense) will be adjusted too and likely pointed out as I address them. Because, while I love this game a lot, there are still a few things that make me go :/ a lot in some parts of it that I want to try and patch up in any way I can.


End file.
